Jillson: Mom, I need a sorry.
Gutsy Mom: A sorry? For what?
Jillson: So I can be an Indian princess.
Gutsy Mom: Oh, you need a sari?
Jillson: Yeeees, Mom, a sari.
Exasperated by my slowness, she runs to my closet and brings back a pashmina, then shows me how to drape it over herself correctly, with one arm exposed.
Then, the little one comes flying around the corner, takes one look at big sister's get-up and asks "Is it pickle time?" Without waiting for an answer she does her little happy dance while squealing "Pickle Time! Pickle Time!"
I may not know what the heck is going on either, but at least I can't say it's boring around here.